


Withered Wreaths, From Those Far-away Lands

by Pearlised



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fell!Gaster Sans, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gaster Sans (Undertale), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Multiverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Queerplatonic Relationships, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlised/pseuds/Pearlised
Summary: Monsters resurfaced from Mount Ebott years ago and life continues as normal.You know little about them, though you are friends to more than a few, and you know even less about the tall skeleton that stumbled into your apartment one particular evening.He's not a good person, you think, but that's okay, because you don't think you're a good person either.You're friends and that's all that matters.
Relationships: Grillby (Undertale) & Reader, Muffet (Undertale) & Reader, Papyrus & Sans (Undertale), Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader, Sans (Undertale) & Reader, W. D. Gaster & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

The sharp pain of hunger pricks your stomach like needles. You shift in your seat, digging the heels of your soles into the marble floor, nails sinking into your palms to distract yourself from the twinges of discomfort brewing inside of you.

A look at the clock tells you it is 3 in the afternoon, half an hour left before the end of class, and you're starting to regret not sneaking a snack or two even if you admit Mr. Denny is one of your nicer lecturer. There's a comfortable air inside your class but you can't focus on anything while your stomach is trying to turn itself inside out.

Somehow, you know Johann is going to get wind of this. You try not to think about the incoming scolding and instead take your time gazing about.

Your teacher is shifting from one foot to the other as he talks about equations and scales. You're too hungry to know or understand what he's saying, but it sounds important, so you jot down a few points and continue to let your eyes wander.

The attending students are huddled into groups more often than not, so you see quite a few whispering in their seat, sometimes about the subject and other times about the plethora of work you had waiting in line. It's a staple of your major, by now, and you're not surprised to see one or two students dozing off to the lecture, their friends subtly nudging them awake each time their head lolled to the side.

You smile wryly, twisting the pen in your clutch. You are seated at the very end of class today, your friends scattered throughout the room in random groups, and you catch a few of them waving at you from their seats. You wave back, grinning.

You don't mind company but there's only so many hours in a day you can take being surrounded by a crowd. A loud clap startles your attention back to the front of the class, and your teacher grins cheekily at the startled shouts resounding throughout the room.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Pack your bags and don't forget to prepare for mid-term !"

Groans follow the statement and you can't help but to let out one of your own. Slugging your drawing tube onto one shoulder and a satchel ontop of the other, you stagger to the door with an exasperated sigh, following the slow trickle of students pouring out into the hallway.

Your stomach rumbles, pushing you to quicken your pace, directing your steps to the left of the front gate. With an almost absent mind, you trail the road towards a small settlement to the back of your college, shuffling along the shade and humming a nonchalant tune.

The street is bustling with activity, humans and monsters frolicking around with a muted cheer. You see a couple of your friends from other majors laughing and gathering in front of the newly opened branch of MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, but you don't feel like eating grease today and your stomach urges your feet forward, so you left with a wave and an exuberant greeting, mouth spread wide into a grin.

A couple of blocks away from your college, Spider Bakery stands adorned in purple and black, snug in the corner of the street. It's a cozy mesh of bakery and cafe, the air thick with the smell of freshly baked pastries, and you think you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue, the subtle tinge of cinnamon and butter and— _is that lemon cake you smell ?_

You jog the last few steps with a giddy smile, feeling the stares of more than a few people as you push the door open. The bell jingles and the patrons inside look up at your entrance, faces stretching into wide, welcoming grins.

Humans rarely frequent the place and monsters are more often than not wary of the ones that come wandering, but you are a familiar face, even if it takes quite a long while for them to lose the tense wariness in their shoulders whenever you arrive.

They call your name, laughing and ribbing with an easiness that makes one or two of the humans inside peer at you in curiosity.

"Kid, you sure they're not torturing you there? You look more like twigs and branches with clothes," says a bunny monster with a scar running down his right cheek.

His smile, with sharpened teeth that looks like needles, is a terrifying thing, you think, but there's an underlying warmth in there, somewhere underneath the quirk of his mouth and the soft crinkles around his eyes.

"Well, nothing I don't expect from you lot, but you can do without the eyebags too. Makes you look like a Panda, you know? And I'm friends with one!"

"Sod off, Ash." You laugh, just as his friend whacks him over the head.

The half empty cup of coffee tips in his grip. It doesn't spill onto the floor, but his cream coloured tank top now bears small splotches of brown.

" _You little shit—_ " Ash sputters, his black fur bristling with indignation. You don't even know bunnies can do that.

"Shut yer trap, you old dirtbag." The crow monster huffs, his voice deep and roughened with age. His lone, opened eye flits back and forth between the few humans casting furtive glances at your exchange.

"Pot, meet kettle." Ash hisses with no real heat, but you see the way the humans flinch and scoot away. He sees it too, you think, when he huffs and sends a smirk your way.

"C'mere and sit! It's been too long since we last saw you. Old Pierre over here worries lots, you know?"

Pierre ignores him and nods his head towards the counter, but he doesn't refute his friend's words either. "Hurry and skedaddle, kid, what're ya waiting for ?"

Right, you almost forget. Your hunger seems to abate at the familiar banter and you smile, feeling warm and fuzzy and giddy all at the same time. Moving towards the counter, you send a sheepish smile at Muffet's amused expression, rummaging through your pocket to get your wallet.

"Sorry about that, I kinda got caught up. One lemon cake and a box of macarons, please. Oh, and a spider cider, too."

The spider monster laughs into one of her hands, winking at you.

"No need to fret, dearie. Ash and Pierre are not the only ones worried about you." She sends a worried glance up and down your person.

You make a worrisome figure, you reckon, with dark bags under your eyes and messy hair, ratty sweater with holes on the sleeves and pants stained with old paints. You look like you haven't taken a bath in ages, unkempt with band-aids on your fingers from an accident with a utility knife the other day and a bruise on your chin from a rather hard fall.

It's nothing new for your family back when you were living together, you bumping into things and coming home black and blue from absolutely nothing, but your friends worry and fuss, Johann taking a step further to have the corners of your tables at home _baby-proofed_ of all things.

It's tiring, sometimes, but it's good to know that they care.

"Nothing happened, Muffet, don't worry. I nicked myself and then slipped on the way home."

That sounds stupid now that you think about it, smile wavering in the face of the spider monster's no longer amused expression, one hand under her chin and another taking the tray of your order from a spider nearby.

"Dearie, that makes me feel even less assured."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this because I need to de-stress from college. English is not my first language so I apologise if there's any mistake. Updates will be sporadic at best, but I hope you enjoy this fic nonetheless !


	2. Chapter 2

The sky is tinged with clashing hues of gold and purple by the time you step out into the street. Drowning in shades that take your breath away, eyes locked onto the distant horizon where the sun is sinking behind towering skyscrapers. The clouds hover uncertainly, darkened by the fading light, and you know that by the time the sun sleeps away on the other side of the world, you won't be able to differentiate them from the blackening stretch of sky.

You stand there, in silence, and for a fleeting moment, everything seems to still. Timeless—the feel of facing something bigger than life taking hold of your chest and bubbling inside, knowing in that second, with certainty, that you are nothing more than a speck of dust in this endless space filled with burning stars and hidden wonders.

Where will you go after this, you wonder, when you slip away from the hold of this waking world, with questions unanswered and no way to know if what you feel right now is awe or fear—or is it resignation, instead?

But you blink, and the moment slips away like feeble grains of sand.

"C'mon kid, what're you doing standing there like a loon?"

You blink again, and Ash is standing in front of you, hands crossed in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow, one feet tapping against the concrete ground. Pierre is standing farther away from him, leaning against a lamppost with an unlit cigarette dangling from his beak, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"Dawdling now, are we?" He drawls, and Ash huffs an exasperated breath.

"Daydreaming again, you troublesome kid? When was the last time you sleep?"

There's concern in his eyes, despite the rather mocking tone, so you smile and take his hand, dragging him towards the old crow. He protests and sputters, and you know he's strong enough to break free from your grasp, like all monsters are, but he lets you, anyway.

His hand is warm and the sharpened claws curl around your fingers like a protective cage of steel and knives.

"A long while." You hum, grinning like the loon he often says you are.

You are alone and far from home. Young and uncertain. But here may as well be home, you think, with strangers that call you family and hide their affection with all the subtlety of a stumbling foal.

Pierre snorts and pushes himself up. You are reminded once again how tall he is, with black feathers that fall around your shoulders like worn blanket. Ash grumbles and swats his wing but he doesn't let go of your hand.

"If yer done already, let's hurry home, yeah?"

His eye flits around and his lone eye is dark as he pulls the both of you away and into the shade. This close, you can see the slivers of scars hidden underneath his pitch black feathers.

"M'kay." You grin and start to ramble about your day, drawing his eye away from the crowd of humans and monsters.

"Your teacher sounds like a jerk." Ash huffs at one point during the (rather one-sided) conversation.

"Nah, he's real nice."

The look he gives you is dubious and you laugh. 

"He is! Why do you think none of us have complained yet?"

"Because yer a wuss?"

You turn to Pierre with a look that says _you're not helping, goddammit,_ and he snorts along with Ash's loud cackles. By the time you arrive in front of your apartment building, the sky has darkened considerably and the clouds are gathering overhead.

"Stay here, I'll go get an umbrella for you. I think it's going to rain soon enough," you say, but is stopped by Ash's hand gently squeezing around your own. You forget you are still holding onto him.

You turn to give him a questioning look and he shakes his head, letting go of your hand. 

"Nah. If tomorrow rains how are you going to go to school? We'll be fine. Our place's not too far from here, anyway."

"I'm going to _college_ —"

"Yes, yes, tomato tomahto. _Anyway_ ," he ignores your indignant _hey_ _!_ with ease, "are you sure _you're_ going to be alright?"

You blink, wondering what this is about. Ash's gaze is piercing, but you don't quite understand what he's saying, so you turn to Pierre, who sighs and curls his wing ontop of your head. It's like a massive hand trying to turn your hair into an absolute mess. You squawk and swat at the offending limb.

"This apartment's old, the security's shit, and the telly's woman talked about people missing this morning." He stares at you with sharp eyes. "Who's looking out for ya here?"

You wince at brunt of their gazes. You haven't seen the news in ages, so it's the first time you're hearing about the missing people, but you want to think you'll be alright by yourself, if only to not inconvenience them any further than what you've already done. 

Ash and Pierre worry a lot, you know, and they're your friends as much as they're your family, but you're an adult now. You should be able to take care of yourself, even if to them your age means nothing to the span of years they've lived.

"I'll be fine." You smile instead.

"You sure?" Ash looks hesitant. "You know our door's open to you, right?"

"Ya can move in with us," Pierre interjects, "we can set up a room for ya. The storage's not really needed anyway." 

"You'll be a lot closer to school!" Ash adds, nodding. 

"And we can make sure ya actually _eat and sleep_ ," Pierre continues.

"You don't have to pay rent, just make sure to do chores every once in a while." Ash is almost vibrating where he stands.

They look hopeful. It's not the first time you've had this conversation, but there's a steely determination in their words today. Warmth bubbles in your chest, your smile fond and exasperated.

"I'll be _fine_." You stress, waving the phone in your hand. "I have your numbers, remember? I'll call if anything happens."

They look unconvinced, but they know how unwilling you are to bend. They stop with a resigned sigh. For today, at least.

"I'll hold ya to that." Pierre grunts. "If anything happens, I'll bring ya back from the other side to skin ya alive."

"Yes, yes." You laugh. "Hurry up and go before it starts pouring!"

Ash flicks your forehead and cackles as you startle, running away from your reach. Pierre chuckles and rolls his eyes, following the bunny with another ruffle to your hair. You watch their retreating backs with a grin.

You'll be fine.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this fluff? Who knows. I enjoy writing this chapter anyway. Thanks for reading and have a nice day!


	3. Chapter 3

_Smoke clogs your nose and ash blankets your skin, drowning in shades of red and orange, rolling waves of heat licking your hair and cackling into your ears. You watch the scene with an almost absent mind, eyes half-lidded and tongue leaden inside your mouth. The pictures on the wall are unfamiliar and the fire is but a warm, lingering touch, the ocean of embers glistening bright and bold and splattered across every inch of your sight._

_Settling contently inside your chest is a chasm of what you know is supposed to be.. something._

_Something whole and colourful and human, though you can't quite put your finger on it. It's something dear, you think, because your chest heaves at the thought and though you don't know anything, there's a churning in your stomach before it quells into the void it was before, as if you are being corroded from inside out._

_You can't muster up the strength to even lift a finger and your mind is filled with an endless screen of fog. There's a persistent ringing in your ears, now, and your eyes struggle to remain open with the heaviness that all of a sudden plagues your waking mind. A part of you knows this is wrong but the other part has long ceased to care, and you slowly succumb into the darkness that creeps along the edges of your vision._

_With one last, mindless sweep of the eyes across the burning structure, you are almost startled by the blurry, lone figure standing amongst the wreckage, form unclear but splashes of brown and white stand stark against the bright backdrop of sunset shades. In a fleeting second that feels like an eternity, you eyes hover along the long, billowing scarf and eyes that shift into shapes you can't quite make out. An unknown, yet at the same time familiar, face stretching into a grin that echoes the hollowness clawing inside your ribs._

_A chipper, somewhat excited voice cuts through the crackles of flames ringing in your ears, not quiet forced but not quite there, either._

_"Interesting."_

_The chasm inside your chest grows._

* * *

You startle awake with a gasp. 

Sweat rolls down your forehead and your clothes stick to your body like a second skin, fingers numb and unmoving. There's a faint ache inside your chest, fading away as you force yourself upright, but the echoes of hollowness remain, curling like a content feline basking in the sunlight.

You stare at your hands for a few seconds, mind lagging from the unexpected shift. Every part of your body feels terribly heavy, and while you want to just sink into the mattress and forget about everything that has happened, your mind is filled with unrest, refusing to go back into Morpheus' embrace. 

It's just a dream, you try telling yourself, but you can't shake off the feeling of familiarity echoing inside your head. 

You don't know why. You've never seen that place before and the pictures framed all around the place is filled with unknown faces, a big family with wide grins that makes you oddly fond. The fire is not less confusing, either. And that voice.. 

That figure, while blurry, is not human. You're sure of it. The voice is distinctly masculine and that parting word is foreboding enough to make your stomach twists and turns. 

Everything is confusing, and nothing you've seen is helping you find an answer to the endless questions running through your mind.

It takes another while for your sleep addled brain to realise that there _is_ one thing you recognise in the chaos.

You.

You're there, inside every frames, smiling with careless abandon, from a child to an adult and with the same wide grin as everyone else's. 

A shiver wracks your body once again. 

You were never fond of taking pictures growing up, and your family have more to worry about than a frame that will eventually be eaten away by dust and left forgotten in a corner of the house. 

But that's you. 

With a family not your own and a glee that feels foreign to see on a face coloured with such naivety. 

You feel oddly annoyed. The reason why is lost to you, but there's an unpleasant, bitter annoyance that wells up every time you remember that fleeting flashes of happiness captured inside every photos. 

You shake your head, trying to calm your fraying nerves. 

Maybe it's a dream, maybe it's not, but you don't want to dwell on the uncomfortable, and frankly, unreasonable, sparks of anger stirring inside. It's an old friend you're not fond of seeing, one you left behind all those years ago when you left and never look back. 

You're not going to become that person again. Not if you can help it.

With a sigh, you push open your bedroom door to head into the kitchen. The telltale drops of rain battering against your window have yet to cease, and there's an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. 

You bask in the comforting, earthy smell of rain, and move to get a cup of water to quell the churning inside your stomach, but lightning flashes along with a loud crack of thunder, and a tall silhouette is etched onto the pale, hastily sewn together curtain blocking your view of the balcony. 

Your heart leaps into your throat, movement stopping into a halt as a voice calls out from behind the sliding glass door. The smell of smoke wafts in the air, somehow, and you're reminded of an unrelenting sea of fire. 

_"Knock knock."_

* * *

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally entering plot territory. Many thanks to my cousin who helps me with this fic! Love you lots, cous. Thanks for reading and a nice day!


	4. Chapter 4

Your breath stutters. 

Your hand, still outstretched, hangs uselessly in the air, body frozen from the fear now crawling its way into your throat. 

The room is plunged into darkness as the thunder recedes and the rain becomes a dull noise in the background, and for a short while, you wonder if your tired mind is playing tricks on your eyes, but another crack of thunder follows and the silhouette is there, seamlessly fitting into the scene like an unwelcomed itch.

You suck in a startled breath, eyes wide and trained onto the folds of sewn fabric. 

_How_ , is the first thing that crosses your mind, followed by _why_ , and _who?_

But the words that greeted your ears, somehow, are the ones that stand out amongst the rest. 

"...who's there?"

Your voice is small, nothing more than a shaky whisper.

You don't know what drives you to humour your probable killer, but something about this feels familiar, not unlike the hazy, grinning face inside your dream, or the void that clamps down onto your chest in that fleeting moment of mindless drifting. 

_You've done this before_ , the realisation sits heavy inside your chest, even if you aren't sure where such conviction comes from.

You don't think you care, in that moment.

"Needle."

The answering voice sounds amused. There's a hint of surprise there as well, faint and burried underneath the visceral glee colouring the word echoing in the air, as if the person didn't expect you to actually say anything.

You're usually inclined to agree with that, but your mouth is already moving against your will, and your body refuses to obey your frantic demand to do _anything else but that_ , so you wait with bated breath as the next line escapes through your lips.

"Needle who?"

A moment of silence, then—

"Needle little help opening this door?"

There's a faint sound, almost static-like and half drowned by the pitter patter of rain outside, right before the door flings open with a pulse of crimson light. 

Time seems to stop as your eyes widen at the monster leisurely walking in to your apartment, and the world tilts and tumbles down in a heap of black and white, everything in sight fading into rolling darkness that eats away at every single crevices.

You jolt and bite back the startled shout threatening to slip past your lips, staring wide eyed at the only colour you can see in the sudden onslaught of monochrome.

Standing slouched and center stage of where was once your living room, is a tall skeleton wearing a shark-like grin, one golden fang glinting in the dark and a crimson eye staring down at you from his left socket.

A black, fur-rimmed coat is pulled over his head, and a similarly coloured belt collar wounds around his neck, the four pronged star etched onto its center giving off the same faint gleam. It matches the long necklace dangling in front of his chest, where a larger, brighter star rests against the crimson turtleneck tucked into a pair of fitting black jeans, with crimson chain dangling off the right side of his belt.

There's a distinctly pleased smirk on his face, and your eyes briefly trail over the painful looking cracks going up and down his sockets, one traveling upwards from his right and the other going down from his left. 

"Heh. I can't tell if you've got balls or just plain stupid." He chuckles. "Then again, this makes everything that much easier. I'd be real happy if you'd _lend me an ear_ while you're at it."

A dark grin overtakes his expression, crimson eyelight disappearing into a pair of pitch black sockets. The air is heavy with the smell of smoke and dying embers.

"Y'see, I have a _bone_ to pick with someone here and, well, rodents are meant to be exterminated, aren't they?"

His grin sharpens for the barest of seconds, and you think you can see a flash of red forming in his empty right socket, but it smoothens back into a languid smile and the crimson eyelight returns to his left. 

The choking smell remains. 

"Thing is, rules here are a huge pain in the coccyx, so I'll have to.. _compromise_ in the meantime."

His voice is smooth and honeyed, deep and silken, but his expression is all hidden barbs and sharpened knives.

"So, whaddya say to helping out a new pal ?"

A foreboding chill runs down your spine. 

It lasts for no longer than a second before you feel a tugging sensation from your chest, not painful yet unwelcomed all the same. An invisible force presses against your body, locking your limbs in place. 

You fight against the odd, slowly worsening sensation for a while, something inside of you screaming not to let go of whatever it is being forcefully pulled out, but the tug grows harder and more painful, and you can only watch with disbelief as a bright glow manifests in front of you, your chest throbbing with a persistent ache.

Right before the glow disappear, however, the pain spikes with a vengeance, sharp and burning like nothing you've ever felt. It's feels as though your insides are melting, something trying to claw its way out your body, pulling and pulling and _pulling—_

You fall to your knees with a pained cry and the room returns to its sullen state. 

_"What the fuck.."_ The intruder mutters, and you struggle to hold back the snarl threatening to break out of you.

You are filled with a familiar, burning anger.

It's your own fault, really, to welcome a stranger into your abode, but you can't help the urge to strangle someone in a moment of blind rage.

How foolish you are, to trust your heart so readily. Look where that got you, dry heaving in a heap on the floor, on the verge of passing out.

You shouldn't have done that.

You shouldn't have done any of this.

But you have always been a slave to your emotions, haven't you?

You shake your head, trying to push away the self-deprecating thoughts.

You can think about life choices later, somewhere safe and away from prying eyes. Right now, you aren't sure you can do anything else but breathe. You can hardly see past the dark spots overtaking your vision, and your breath is starting to leave in short, stuttered gasps. 

There's the faint sound of footsteps, then, and a blurry hand reaches out just as your body falls forward, burning crimson piercing through the haze.

* * *

_"When will you learn, you foolish child?"_

_The words, yet unspoken, you can understand all the same._

_A disembodied hand cards through your hair and, somewhere far_ _away, the sound of rain persists._

* * *

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-term is killing me right now so this came out later than intended. Stay safe wherever you are and have a nice day! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up feels harder than it should have been.

Your mouth tastes strangely bitter, as you dart out your tongue to wet your lips, and a tinge of copper remains as you shut them close. 

The curtains used to cover the windows are now pinned to the side and a gentle sunlight stretches across the room in an arch. You can see dewdrops gathering on the other side of the glass, blurring your view of the outside world. Patches of colours remain, however, clear to see and easy to discern.

It is almost cathartic, like this, just staying still and staring mindlessly into nothing, drifting off between conscious and unconscious. And yet, in the dimness of the room, you can see tendrils of light slipping in through the cracks around the door. Reaching into the darkness and clashing against the rays of sun cutting through the room in half.

There's a faint buzz from the television outside and, with it, comes the choking memory of being locked inside your own body, pain overtaking any rational thoughts inside your head as you felt your chest bursting open.

You remember the invisible pressure wounding around your chest, coiled tight like a chain, your breaths slowly coming out in gasps and coughs when there wasn't anything for you to struggle out of.

The pain, like needles piercing out of your skin, was nothing like any you've ever felt and, in the vast expanse of monochrome coloured canvas, all you could see was the gleeful grin on the skeleton's face.

You sink your nails into the palm of your hands, the sharp sting grounding you just as well as it had all those years ago. 

Yesterday was a mess and your head feels cluttered now more than ever.

You don't know how so much can happen in the span of one day. You can only take so much before your brain blanks out into an eerie calm, leaving you bereft of anything besides the numbing thoughts of what Pierre will do once he gets wind of this situation.

It's.. strangely more terrifying than the thought of just who is waiting outside the door.

You inhale, eyelids falling close once again, and an ashen smell clogs your nose. It's faint, though still stronger than the ones you'd smell on Pierre, barely there at all. Exhaling a shaky sigh, you pry your eyes open and push yourself up with trembling fingers.

You brought this upon yourself, even if the skeleton may be the one responsible for the phantom pain now coursing through your body. The thought makes you grind your teeth, nearly seething, one hand running through your hair to pull at the messy strands.

You are a prideful person. You've always known that.

Living every single day without knowing whether you'd be able to eat or not had left you bare with nothing but the pride that carries you forward, head held high even as you scuttle around the neighborhood for odd jobs and whatever scraps you could get your hands on.

It's the pride you have in yourself, the pride of being able to stand on your own two legs without having to rely on anyone or anything else. The pride you have in you, yourself, all alone, because you'd once lost the trust you had in those who were supposed to care for you.

But that makes everything just that much harder.

You know you are not perfect, but the voices inside your head are like vultures lying in wait for their prey to fall and become the next scrumptious meal.

They scream and laugh and whisper into your ears. Damning words you've heard countless times and again, somehow always able to cut through your skin.

It leaves you haggard and hurting, more than anyone else could ever do to you. You'd think and continue to overthink and it would always end with you pushing those thoughts into the back of your head, turning into the comfortable rage that burns away at every feeling of humiliation and discomfort. 

It's a twisted sense of logic, you suppose, for your worst enemy to be yourself. You've always relied on your own person and you can't falter when you had no one else to catch you when you fall, so it only makes sense to make sure you won't fail at all, instead.

But it's different now.

You're not alone anymore.

You think of Muffet and Ash and Pierre and all of the people in your life you can now call yours and you think it's fine even if you fall.

 _it's alright to make mistakes,_ Ash had told you all those years ago, when you were young and lost and wore your anger like a second skin.

He'd ruffled your hair and sat you down to clean the scratches on your fist, the crusted and drying crimson flakes that the both of you knew to not be yours and, even if you knew the words he'd said back then were carefully worded scolding, somehow you didn't mind the thought of failing as much as you'd usually do.

To you, Ash had always been Ash, the monster that hangs out at Muffet's and works part-time at Grillby's, another friendly face in a town full of friendly faces, never much of anything else. Nothing more, nothing less.

But, in that moment, in the gentleness in which he handles your hands, the worried crease of his brows, and the almost sorrowful upturn of his smile, you think you can see the Ash that is your friend, instead.

The Ash that is hidden behind a confident stride and deceivingly languid posture, always one step ahead with a grin that tells some kind of a hidden joke.

The Ash you'd thought was lost to the age-old war and the burdening role as the royal guard's former captain.

Friends. 

You don't think you've ever been able to truly see anyone as a friend before Ash and Pierre.

The tips of your fingers brush against the blanket pooling around your waist.

The thought of losing control over what little else you have in your life irks you. For the only place you feel safe enough to bare your weaknesses to now be no different from the world outside, dangling from someone else's fingertips and completely at their mercy. But you don't think his malice is meant for you. 

You recall the stiffness in the skeleton's shoulders, in between flashes of pain and throbbing crimson light, a strain pulling at the corners of his smirk before it washed away into a mask of nonchalance.

Whatever he came to your apartment for, it's personal.

You almost feel sorry for the one on the opposite end of that seething anger.

A smile stretches on your lips and the voices recede into muted static. You don't think he's that much different from you, after all. 

The air tastes stale and the smell of smoke is comforting.

* * *

Contrary to your expectations, the skeleton doesn't make himself at home inside your apartment. Not completely, at the very least.

He's stretched out across the couch with his shoes propped up against the coffee table and the trash can had been moved to become a replacement ashtray of some sort, but other than that, your living room is surprisingly intact and devoid of mess.

He wears a mocking grin as you stepped into the room, the single golden fang catching the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

"Took you long enough. Didn't think you'd come out anytime soon."

He snickers, and you tilt your head before a smile forms on your face.

Monsters are dangerous, you know that all too well, perhaps more than anything else you've ever known about your friends. Ash and Pierre bear scars all over their bodies and you've seen the way Muffet would drag out those who made a racket inside her bakery.

You are not one to fool yourself.

But, at the same time, you remember the warm hand catching you as you fall and the thick, fluffy blanket bundled around you on the bed, the one that should have been folded into a neat pile in the corner of your closet, and you grin.

Something pulls you to him, an innate longing that pulses through your veins and, just this once, you think you are not afraid to fall.

"Neither do I."

There's a beat of silence before he sends you a look full of incredulity.

"...Did you lose a few marbles in there?"

You laugh.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Just finished mid-term and I might have gone a little overboard with relieving stress because I ended up drawing a scene for every chapter :")  
> Hope you'll enjoy them, tho. Have a nice day!


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